


From the Pages of a Different History

by Polarissruler



Category: Soul Cartel (Webcomic)
Genre: AU - Historical, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Politics, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polarissruler/pseuds/Polarissruler
Summary: Uriel had run away from his kingdom. He had never imagined he would conquer it.A series of prompts for the Inspiring Tables community at dreamwidth.





	1. Inglorious

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, guys! After my first self-challenge ended so well, I decided to try another one. This time, I'm going to do it a bit differently - I have chosen a table from Inspiring Tables at dreamwidth - an amazing place if you are looking for inspiration - and I'm going to write for a different prompt every day. The focus will be my favorite angel Uriel in a Historical AU. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Rays of sunlight grazed through the clouds. Like a huge snake, the bloody red light crawled slowly, reaching over the mountains. Uriel had used to like watching the world wake up from its dreams. But today it would sign death, an order to march and destroy. How much easier it would be, he pondered, if he had taken the snake lord's offer. If he had stayed as his personal bodyguard in the castle. Yet no matter how easy, he could not suffer in that glided cage as a personal toy. Luckily, the general took anyone capable in the army, no matter the politics - and no one dared fight him. 

Too late to worry about such thoughts anymore. The sun would rise at any moment - a signal to storm the fortress again and break into it. All knights stood proudly in perfect formation, each one looking at the general. He had taken his helmet off and spoke to his soldiers. His long hair, as red as blood, flowed to the saddle. No soldier would wear his hair so long, but General Mephistopheles had always defied common sense.

"My knights!" he roared, his voice powerful enough to tear rocks off a mountain. "This fortress had held us back far too long!" It would be a lie to call the general composed, but now Uriel almost expected him to charge the unbreakable fort alone. "We will fight! We will win! Tonight, princess Gabriel will be our prisoner!"

Prisoner - only he believed those words. Everyone who knew Lord Mastema excepted a mixture between a torture session and public execution. Uriel's sister had information. It held more importance for Mastema than riches.

"No matter where you have come from, you have only one direction! And each of you will reach it! This is our first stop to Eden! We will march in their capital! We will win every fight in the way!" The general smiled, his fiendish fangs showing. "Total, absolute win - we seek only that!"

The knights cheered. The sun rose. Mephistopheles put on his helmet and charged forwards. For the win!

* * *

The fires would die down one day. The huge towers of Purgatory - Heaven's strongest border fortress would fall one day. No, Mastema would not let them come to ruin. He was going to hold it in his coil, break it apart and rebuild it. His fortress, in his image, for his plans. Just as the towers stood still, so would the memory.

Uriel looked at his armor, still red with blood. His sister's voice - proud and powerful and helpful - repeated the sentence he would never forget.

"I defend the realm. For me to be taken means the kingdom is taken. If you want me out of this fortress," she had said sitting in the throne, "you have to take my corpse to the Pandemonium."

She had tried to help; she always did. Asking, promising forgiveness, crying regret. Even as the sword had risen above her head, she had not stopped praying. Uriel had swung the sword with such force that it hit the stone floor and rung loudly. To Mastema he would say she had died in the fight. He could have done nothing to save her.

How long time did Uriel have until Mastema saw through the lie and used it as another trump card against the runway prince?


	2. Blood At Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The talks were just a pause - a moment for both kingdoms to regain their powers. Uriel had to spend it at the castle he had taken over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope the weather is warming by you, too. Here today it was warm enough to do some gardening - and write of course! This is the second part of the Soul Cartel AU at inspiring_tables on dreamwidth! The prompt: Times of Peace. Just a quick note: all stories are connected in some loose plot, so it'd be better to read them all!

Faint light shimmered through the tiny windows cut in the stone. Even in daytime Fort Purgatory needed thousands of flames hanging on the walls. Darkness, befitting of a former prison, built up in the corners and spread everywhere until Uriel felt as if he were crawling through a deep swamp. He could not believe Gabriel had chosen it as her residence. Had his sister illuminated the whole castle with her sunny personality? Only she could break the shadows that looked ready to jump from any corner.

Fort Purgatory had no memories left of his former master. The endless army of Inferno had stormed the castle. The friezes with golden leaves and beautiful green murals had fallen, destroyed by friend and foe in the deadly skirmish. All orders of his sister lied in the dust - little piles of colorful waste.

Another turn. Another corner. Another second of waiting to make sure nothing stood on the other side. The blood sputters became his wardens, Fort Purgatory became his prison without chains or cages. Queen Astaroth had ordered to stop all advances as soon as the offer for peace talks came. If only she could have sent another representative...

The guards crossed spears when Uriel tried to enter the chambers. “Name and reason for entry!” barked the left one.

Uriel stopped in front of the high gate, plated with gold. His breath stopped short. Why had that mural survived? On the gate stood Gabriel, proud in her ultramarine armor. Her pink hair fell to her ankles. She extended a pearly white hand to the front, as if to Uriel. Her green eyes looked sharply at him, not leaving him a place to run.

“Name and reason!” barked the right guard, too.

After he explained himself quickly, Uriel entered. His heavy legs moved slowly, trying his best to not look at the golden painting.

“Welcome here, Prince Uriel.” Lord Mastema stood by the side of the throne, his pale fingers brushing the mahogany wood. “How do you feel being back home?”

“That is not my home, Milord.” Polite, exact answers. Nothing more than absolutely needed. No more power for Mastema. “I have sworn loyalty to Kingdom Inferno.”

“This is a beautiful throne, is it not? I'd regret it if it had been destroyed in the horrible fight that claimed your sister's life.” The lord let go of the decorated throne. “Life I am very sure belonged to me.”

Even during peace, Uriel fell attacked. “Milord, I have nothing to say. I have sworn to give her back to you, but someone else had already claimed her life. I could not...” Oh, how much he wanted to run away, eyes closed to hide his tears! But Mastema would use that to cool even tighter around him, to turn him into a personal servant and break him down piece by piece.

“That is too bad.” Lord Mastema walked to Uriel, his golden robes swaying with every step. “With her knowledge, I could take over every fortress in Heaven.” He pretended to be lost in thought. Ha, as if that beast had not already planned the conversation to the last detail. “I will need another way to prove your loyalty to me, then. Luckily for you I have a mission only you can do. Two, in fact. I can allow you to govern this Fort - to be the warden of your prison. I can allow you to simmer in the darkness until it eats you alive and leaves you a shell. You can stay here hated by everyone - including yourself. It would be a mercy compared to the other option.”

A monster like that knew no mercy. Another trick, Uriel suspected. “What is my other choice, Milord?”

“I shall need a bodyguard for the peace talks. Accompany me to Justina.” Mastema had come in front of Uriel. “What do you choose, disgraced prince? An age of agony or a moment of endless pain?”


	3. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why would going back to Justina cause Uriel suffering? Michael meant nothing for him. He just had to repeat the lie and hope it stuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! This is the next fic for my series. I hope you like this one because I have never written Michael before. I think I have gotten his character, but still... The prompt is Royalty, so we have a pair of royals.

“It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you in Justina, Lord Mastema.” Michael clenched his hands in a fist and tried to hide them behind his back. The huge crystal throne that looked as if made of pure water stopped him. “But I excepted Queen Astaroth would have come in person.” His smile strained around the corners. Any moment it would tear his face in two. “How shall we proceed?” Only his voice excluded grace.

Opposite him, Mastema was smiling. For the first time Uriel had seen him so… real. Nothing too big — like every other attempt to hide smiles. Either he had learned to lie better, or — Uriel doubted that — he was enjoying the peace talks.

“It is an even greater pleasure to come here, Your Highness.” Grace, control, power — Mastema looked as if the capital already belonged to him. And why would he not? He had sworn he would bring the whole Heaven Kingdom under his thumb. “I'd rather we start with discussing your surrender. Once you agree to my terms, we will proceed to draft a peace treaty, favorable enough so your country might survive a few years.”

Michael glanced at Uriel, his expression far more sour than the one time he had eaten a whole lemon. “Only because of your guards you make such bold claims.” Not perfect, but at least he didn't threaten him outright. Raphael would have demanded Mastema's execution and… And what? The Heaven Kingdom had only two princes left — the Heir Apparent and the General.

Uriel had run from home on that whim, only to come back. Micheal looked at him as if he were a pest; a little bug that only destroyed. At least he had the helmet on his face and Michael treated him as one of Mastema's servants. What would he do if he saw Uriel's face?

“Your Highness, even alone I'd have not changed anything. Our army has destroyed yours. What, but foolish pride, is stopping you from agreeing to our terms?” Mastema spoke in a slow, clear voice. Not asking - then he would be far sweeter, as poisonous honey, until one could only answer yes. “And to show you our charitable nature, I shall ask only of territories. Let me see.” Mastema counted on his fingers, taking his time. “I'd like only every conquered fortress. And one gift more as a cherry on the top.”

Micheal ordered a servant to bring a map. Mastema wasted no time in opening it on the table, almost tearing the parchment. “How about we draw the border here?” His finger followed a mostly straight line but near the Castle Justina, he made a sharp turn to include it in his terms.

The capital? Michael would never agree — and Uriel was sure Queen Astaroth had not asked for that. No, she must have trusted Mastema's intuition. It had won them many favorable contracts - and as many devastating battles.

“You must adore the war. Tell me, servant of Inferno, how much do you like throwing lives away?” The peace talks had ended. Micheal, close to tears, looked at Uriel and asked. “Does it matter for you how many people have fallen in this needless bloodshed? Is this what you want?”

“Lord Mastema wants this! His orders are absolute!” Uriel blurted out. Could Micheal guess his voice? Using Mastema as a defense for his actions - had he fallen that low? Of course; he had become that snake's pet project. Mastema would never let him forget those words - Uriel felt him coiling around his heart.

Michael's eyes opened wide. “Leave. Leave and never come back here unless you conquer the castle and kill me!” Even despite the shaky voice, Uriel felt the weight of that oath. Another part of his past had died. No, they had died long ago - when he had run away! All his siblings had become enemies! He did not love them any more than he loved all other enemies he had slain!

Why did he wish he could return home and apologize so much while Mastema was dragging him away?


	4. Povetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lord Mastema and Uriel leave the castle, the lord chooses to take an unexpected deutor. In the end, Uriel loses once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally it's over! This is the last thing I need to post today; the fic for my daily prompt. It's a bit of cheating to use the prompt's name as the title, but:  
> A) I was already tired from editing all the crossovers and  
> B) I could not think of a title that fit better.
> 
> I hope you like this fic!

The stench had always made Uriel gag. Lord Mastema could have taken any other road. Why had he chosen, with his ever-present fake smile, to walk through the slums? Uriel marched fast. His lord took his time looking around as if every suffering person was a sight worth seeing. Such reason — Uriel would not put it past him.

“Intriguing.” Lord Mastema had run towards Uriel’s side. “I did not believe the pristine Heaven Kingdom had such an ugly site. And in their capital!” His eyes — slit like a snake’s — turned at every plea for help, at every heartfelt beg.

“Food!” A man came near Lord Mastema. Wounds slit through his arms from the fingers to the elbow. He barely walked, shaking and shivering, waddling in everything but a straight line. The rags he was wearing looked as if he had put a blanket on his body. His skeleton-thin fingers circled an open palm — dead branches around a grave.

The man tripped, his bloody hand brushing sightly against Lord Mastema’s dark gray regalia. Blood drew a long, red streak from his heart to the end of the sleeve. Lord Mastema said nothing, but his head turned to Uriel. He snapped his fingers as if ordering a dog around. Uriel took his long sword from the scabbard. The bright sunset glistened the metal and blinded him.

“Well?” asked Lord Mastema. “Will you follow my orders? I need no broken automatons.” Uriel knew the broken’s fate. Lord Mastema’s rumored love of public execution was not baseless. Just a tool to hold the sword — did he had any care for people beyond that? No, how could he? “You said my orders are absolute, did you not? I expect you to follow your promise.”

Nothing would come out of the lord’s threat, right? He enjoyed destroying Uriel’s life too much. He would not break a toy until it begged to be broken. 

The heavy sword shook in Uriel’s hands. Any moment it would fall on the ground. One easy move. One powerful slash. One more death to chase him in nightmares. And nothing to haunt the lord’s calm sleep.

The man saw the clear danger. He ran - again a pathetic waddle, barely faster than his usual one.

“My apologies, milord. I could not act on time.” Lie, far too clear. “Shall we walk on our way?”

* * *

“After we return to Fort Purgatory,” said Lord Mastema as they entered the chariot, “you will have to explain your actions, Uriel. I thought you have no sympathy left for that kingdom.”

“I do not, milord,” replied Uriel. “What I have sympathy for, are the common people. They would suffer the same if they were in any other kingdom.”

“Ah, a prince of the people?” If snickering was not a clear show of emotion, Lord Mastema would not have stopped laughing all the way to the fort. “If they would suffer equally everywhere, why have you run to us, in Inferno? I’ve decided; giving me your past would be your punishment.”

The snake wanted more power. 


	5. Roads and Weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uriel thought of the difference in roads between Inferno and Heaven. It ended as something far greater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is technological advancements. I'm... not exactly happy with how this one turned out. Maybe the prompt felt a bit distant to me, or maybe I could not wait to reach the next prompt so I can start telling Uriel's backstory (not that I have thought of it, but still...) But still, I needed that bit of worldbuilding, maybe. Anyway, I hope you at least will like it.

The ride passed on silence. Lord Mastema refused to speak, leaving Uriel to boil in his disordered thoughts. Each hole on the road, which shook the grand carriage, did not help matters. The rocky roads and the furious speed of the frantic horses would have broken any lesser carriage. Inferno never had a lack of durable materials. Four wooden wheels, far sturdier than anything Heaven had, cracked every branch on the roads. Such power, multiplied by the thousands, aggressively pushed the whole Inferno army. Why did Micheal and Raphael had any hope to win? He, most likely - who else could will them to die?

How long had the roads rocked the chariot? Even now, Uriel had missed Heaven's relatively gentler routes. Everything in Inferno — from the roads to the buildings — looked coarse and unfinished. They valued power over everything. Aesthetics had never been the strong suit of the mighty princes. Only Queen Astaroth's fortified castle had a conventional beauty as the best builders from the continent had built it. The desire for power had still struck its heart. On the queen's orders, the sturdiest materials of Inferno went in building Pandemonium. Polished glass, as crystal as ice, formed the outer wall. Once, it might have been charming; now so many dull cracks glossed it that one could see nothing through it. It worked; why replace it and waste money on passing beauty?

Uriel once asked the queen - an age a lifetime ago, back when the war had been a practical thought only in the most devious mind. She answered with no second to think, “How are people supposed to follow an order if the queen does not?” Her Majesty Astaroth believed her laws absolute - even she did not stand above them.

Power above everything - every man bowed to the endless war machine. Even the queen saw herself as its direct extension. All resources went in studier materials, more firepower and more effective weapons. The hand cannon that Lord Mastema called the new age of warfare still frightened Uriel. How much time had passed since its showing? How much would it take to turn the fierce wars even easier - even bloodier? 

Did they have something like that in Heaven? Would they believe the rampant rumors that already crossed from kingdom to kingdom? No messengers of Micheal had come to ask for the modern weapon. Was it because they knew they would never get it or because they earnestly hoped it wasn't real? Michael had many talents, but he held too much compassion to lead wars. Raphael stood fighting instead, his immeasurable power enough to block many invasions.

If Lord Mastema wanted to win the war, he needed to perfect the tiny canons before Raphael's army came to help Michael. That would be a surprise they needed to come on the top. Finally, the war machine would pay off. 

The carriage screeched. Its wheels stopped spinning. A servant gently opened the door. 

“We have arrived, fallen prince.” Mastema stepped out, another servant aiding him with his finery. “I earnestly hope you have had enough time to prepare your tragic story. You are welcome in my chambers to divulge it to me.”


	6. The Three Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each of Uriel's siblings caught him as he tried to run away. Each one told him a different thing. Each one had a different wish. More than anything Uriel had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! This fic is for the fifth prompt, which is Family Expectations - and you finally get a glimpse at what led Uriel to betray his land. We are still a bit far from the main reason, but this is the first part of his backstory. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

"Are you feeling comfortable?” Lord Mastema had sat across the fluffy armchair, his head leaning on the left pillow and his legs crossing over the right. He could not look at Uriel - not that the soulless lord planned to bestow him such affection. “Begin,” ordered he.

Uriel shuffled in the other armchair. The soft pillows would swallow him alive, yet he had not felt in a harder place before. No matter how much he moved, he could not find a comfortable position. How should he answer the lord’s order? Lie through his teeth and pray the lord does not see? Answer with the truth and lose power over his past - the only one he still had? No, Lord Mastema already knew it - he knew everything through his endless network of spies. He only wanted to degrade Uriel furthermore - forcing him to blatantly lie and hold it against him when confronted with the truth. No lies, then.

“Milord, I hope you feel as comfortable,” he said. “Because my story is quite long.”

* * *

“The prince is obedient,” spoke Uriel’s earliest memory. “The prince faithfully follows the world’s law as everybody else.”

He had forgotten many details of his father. The man always stayed in private, away from his loyal subjects. A brilliant light, a warm, yet powerful hand. And the voice that caged him in the golden castle of Justina.

What could a young prince, so far from the throne, do? Every day he spent with personal tutors, preparing him for duties that would never come. He heard tales of the pleasant world outside of the castle, of verdant fields and wealthy cities, of glorious nobles and cheerful people. For Uriel, sheltered away from the unhappiness, each word represented absolute truth.

Sometimes, he tried escaping. Then one of his elder siblings caught him, and each would try to stop him from leaving.

“Father says we should not leave the castle until one of us is crowned a king,” spoke to him Micheal, with a gentle voice, “and we shall not reject his orders. Who would rather live in a chaotic world, governed by disobedience and endless chaos? You are a prince - a great guardian of order, not its destroyer.”

Gabriel cared for him more than for the political order. “Out there lies a broad world, young Uriel. An unknown world we must not enter until prepared. Do you not fear what could happen to you if you disappear, lost in those raw lands? What will happen to the rest of us? Can you imagine how much you’d suffer if I left? Stay here! Very soon, Michael will take the throne. You will see the world, of which you dream! So stay in safe, little good prince!”

Raphael always helped him sneak out - another eager soul that could not stay inside the cold castle’s damp walls. He promptly led his younger brother through secret, cramped passages to the outer walls. Before they could leave, however, Raphael explained everything he knew of the endless lands beyond the castle. Fantastic tales of poor people suffering for a tiny piece of rotten food, soldiers killing each other for their petty rulers’ riches… “One day your brother is going to take the throne. He will try saving the kingdom - as dad is doing now. Then, all the fierce pain will disappear. If you wish to see suffering - if you want your eager eyes open to reality, leave now. If you enjoy the pretty stories, stay inside as an obedient little prince.”

Maybe only Raphael felt disappointed when Uriel had always returned. After all, good princes stayed inside. Uriel had to be a good prince. 


	7. From The Outside World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The so-waited travel. Uriel left the castle for the first time, wondering what to expect? The beautiful tales of Gabriel or the horrific stories of Raphael? The truth lied somewhere in the middle, he believed. He finds it too skewed to one side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought something could not be harder to write than the Technological Advances. About this one - I wanted to fit so many things in at once that I ended up not knowing where to start. In the end, this is all I managed. It's far different from my usual style, but I liked how it ended. What do you think?

Age replaced age. Micheal took the throne, a golden crown on his head. His father had grown sick, too sick to rule even through representatives. Yet so little changed - Micheal was still a prince, the barely living father - the king. As if time had stopped just at the kingdom's borders. Each day went in roughly the same order: tutors, then trying to run away and getting cold feet at the last moment. Rays of light sneaked through the prison-like windows and Uriel wished he could fly through them and reach the sun of the outside world.

Almost a week after the crowning, Micheal called all his siblings in the throne room, a huge map spread on the table in front of him. “My siblings,” said he when they entered, “Father has promised we would leave the castle after one of us took the crown. In his place, I shall fulfill that wish.” His finger pointed out to the other end of the map - a kingdom far to the western side of the continent. A city just on the edge of the sea. Pandemonium - the capital of Inferno. “Recently, Queen Astaroth has come in power there. She invites us to the ceremony, in one month. We shall leave immediately.”

There were some details - Gabriel would stay with Faust to rule in Michael's place, the order in which the carts were to travel. Uriel remembered no details - he was leaving the castle! He could see the world!

* * *

By the time the first stop came, Uriel wished nothing more than to stand up and let his legs move. Sitting for hours on the stiff wood felt as even worse imprisonment than the Castle Justina. And they had not even traveled much! The rich town felt like a copy of his home city, full of expensive buildings that belonged to rich merchants and powerful lords. If he looked away to the east, he could see the tall towers of Justina, their golden plating glowing brighter than a star.

The place they stayed - some local lord's castle looked just as the capital palace. Dark halls spread to everywhere, torches lit the walls. No light passed through the windows, so tiny that one could mistake them for a prison’s. Uriel tried to sleep, but only shuffled back and forth on a bed, as hard as a rock.

* * *

On the way to the second stop, the carts got attacked by bandits. Raphael and the few guards he had taken drove them out. Uriel did not even see them; he only heard the leader’s voice: “There’s a toll on this road! Pay if you cherish your lives!” Maybe Michael did not even hear that - his carriage drove last.

* * *

The fourth (or fifth - Uriel had started to lose count) town shocked Uriel. The castle glowed on a nearby hill, a picture befitting the fairy tale books the prince used to read. The local lord threw a great celebration in their honor and insisted they stayed in the castle. Uriel could have spent the whole night watching the colorful rooms of the palace, each one decorated with huge glass murals and colorful chandlers. Gold and silver painted every wall and luxurious draperies hanged on every wall. Even Justina had not such decorations!

“If I wanted to marvel at false beauties and pretty masks, I would have stayed at home. I will let you stay inside the pretty picture, Uriel. Stay or come - you choose.”

If the fake held so much beauty, Uriel could not wait to see the reality. The world could not be as ugly as Raphael described it, right? Why would he spend so much time there, if only to marvel at its hideous nature?

Uriel nodded. “I am coming,” said he as Raphael put a gray hood over his head.

* * *

It was only one town, Uriel tried to tell himself. He pulled the covers tightly to him, his eyes closed. Maybe in sleep, he could forget the dark slums, the people who did not have enough money to live. Something that the lord had wished to keep under tight wraps.

Downstairs, he and Micheal argued. Uriel heard their screams in his room; every time the eldest brother repeated Uriel’s words, he shivered.

* * *

Only a single town, Uriel tried to say to himself. A single local lord, who acted as he wanted.

* * *

The outside world started to look like Raphael’s stories. With every rotation of the wheels, the procession drove further from the pretty pictures of Justina. Michael stood more and more in the rooms, rarely choosing to look at the cities they visited. Raphael walked everywhere, trying to find inspiration at the darkest secrets he could find.

Uriel tried to go with Raphael. After a few stops, he could not stomach it anymore.

* * *

On the next day, they were going to cross the borders. Uriel did not know what to expect. Maybe Inferno would be the world of which Uriel dreamed.

* * *

How come dreams could disappoint so much?


	8. Like A Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Inferno anyone could be the king. A land where the love of the people chose the leader, Mastema had promised. How should Uriel have known not to trust him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry, I'm so late, but the closer to the end of Uriel's backstory I go, the more I can't make it seem right! This one took over a few hours of writing before I got it properly, so I hope you like it. Also, there's a slight warning for an execution by burning at the stakes (the prompt today is Convicted, after all). It's not detailed at all, but I thought I should put it here!

A servant that introduced himself s working under Queen Astaroth found the princes in their first stop in Inferno.

“My Queen's greatest apologizes -” he gave a sealed scroll to Uriel, the red seal of House Lucifer on it “- but we decided to change your travel route. Bandits have attacked the roads we had chosen. She hopes it causes you no distress.”

Micheal took the document. “My greatest thanks to the Queen.”

After another exchange of politeness, the servant left.

* * *

Rumors ran faster than horses. As Uriel walked through another vast castle - the walls seemingly made of untouched rocks - he heard servants gossiping in the halls.

“Another rebellion against the Queen?”

“I pray they win; we need a powerful ruler on the throne. Not an artisan.”

“May they lose. The Queen is trying to fight for us.”

“The queen fights for herself; why would anyone fight for poor servants?”

“She had won the throne. It is her by right!”

“As if! She stole it under her lords' nose!”

* * *

The messengers came to change the route a few more times.

“Those bandits spread like a plague, Your Majesty!”

“They have attacked the whole town! We have no safe place for you there.”

If Uriel ordered his carriage to change direction, what would he see? Huge armies fighting in an open field? Bloody armor and horrific weapons? Huge canons that broke walls?

He could only imagine. He would never try to change the way and get lost in forging land. He had not risked at home, after all.

* * *

The carriage rode over a hill. The great curve of the sea sparkled brightly in the distance. Spires of glass glowed red as the sunset bathed the world with its lights. Pandemonium’s famous glass tower - the first part of Queen Astaroth’s new castle. The next day, they were going to arrive and meet the royalty. The end of their small journey away from home…

* * *

The local count stood in front of a pyre, a man with a mask on his head next to him. Michael had walked out to discuss matters; one servant was explaining the situation to him nearby Uriel’s carriage. Few words reached him through the glass: traitor, blood, royalty…

“For traitor of unheard proportion against our Great Queen, you have been found guilty! Have you any last words, ignoble one?” The lord did not wait for an answer; the criminal did not try to give one. After a single nod, the executioner lit the pyre with his torch. Thick pillars of smoke rose from the middle of the town plaza. “Look, people!” ordered the noble, “For this is the fate that befalls rebels! Even a close man of the court will not be spared from justice!”

Michael refused to give details; Uriel feared to ask someone else. For once, the servants were not in the mood to gossip around him; as soon as they heard steps, they went in the opposite direction.

* * *

“You have a question for me, do you not?” Even though the man stood a few inches shorter than Uriel, the prince could no look away from him. Mastema, Great Lord of Inferno, commanded obedience in everyone. “Ever since you entered the castle, I see a question gnawing your mind. I’d love to help in any manner I can.” His voice, soft like nectar, tickled Uriel’s ear.

“Nothing important, your Highness. It is not a matter to torment a man of your statute.” Flicker away. Disappear. As if a man like that would accept it.

“I believe it is a matter for a man of my statute. Rulers are, in first place, servants of their country. Could two servants not hold a conversation away from the etiquette of the council?” Mastema took a black glove off and extended hand to Uriel. His skin felt colder than a winter night.

The conversation had gone on without excessive noise despite Uriel’s fears. Yet he could not help but think of rebellions attacking and sieging the castle every night he spent there. He was leaving tomorrow. He could afford to leave a single bad impression, right?

“Are you supporting the rebels?” Straight to the point. Mastema smiled sightly; he had not seen such a great fool before. “The rebels say your sister does not deserve the throne. Who are they going to put, but one of her brothers?”

“Themselves,” answered Mastema as if any noble had the right of a king. “How do you suppose House Lucifer has held the throne in its bloodline for so long? The little game of alliances we play is the only thing that binds our little domains in a country to rival your kingdom. Every local lord could try and take the throne if they decide the monarch is weak. If people dislike the ruler, they will do their best to dispose of him. In this case - her.”

A world, where the king had to be adored by the people. A world, where people held the power. Back then, it had felt like the perfect world for Uriel. Oh, how much he had been caught by Mastema’s lies…

* * *

“You know the rest.” Hours have passed since Uriel had begun his story. “The little prince believed the noble lord and betrayed his whole world. I do not think I must recount even that.”

“No need, indeed.” Lord Mastema turned to face Uriel. “You are free, now.”

‘Free,’ thought Uriel as he walked out through the castle, light barely passing through the prison windows. ‘As if I will ever be free of the crimes I chose. The crimes you ordered me to do.’

In Heaven Uriel would always be the adviser of a brother, who waited for the right time. In Inferno he could act now. Anyone could be the king, right? Uriel believed nothing would stop him from staring in the low ranks of the Inferno army. Climbing up. Getting his own town. Earning the people’s support. Taking the throne and saving everybody. As Lord Mastema had said, history twisted ideals. Over how much piles of corpses Uriel had to climb to reach the golden crown? 


	9. Court of Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mastema's spy network always provided information. When Raphael's army was found advancing, the Lord immediately began preparations for war. How far could bad blood go in a single family? Pretty deep, if they all were power-hungry royals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Sorry for missing updates for two days, but now I can reassure you: I'm not dead at all. Just life got me (my birthday was on Sunday, so I decided to clean on Saturday and it took far more time than expected). But to compensate, today you are getting a double update! This part (the conversation between Mastema and Mephisto, especially) was one of the building blocks of my AU idea. I'm happy you finally get to see it!

“The armies of Raphael are coming from the heart of Heaven.” Lord Mastema drew on the map. It must have cost a whole lot to make - cheap rate for him. “They plan to support Michael’s forces. My watchers expect them to come by the end of the week. What do you propose, brother?”

Mephistopheles frowned. His brow furrowed. “Now you listen to me, huh? And only a few days ago you said to stop advancing for the peace talks. We could have steamrolled over Heaven’s forces if we had attacked!” He hit the wooden table with a fist, so powerful that the map shook. “Why are you asking me - the soldier you have stolen from me to make into a butler knows them far better!”

Sly smile - all the Lord Mastema allowed himself. Uriel had learned long ago to notice the masks. Could the lord not show his real face even in front of his brother? If he had a real face at all, behind the heavy draperies of lies…

Not that Uriel could say anything about him. How much time had passed since he could think truths? Every time the wish of Uriel’s old world came up, he tried to push down any feeling. “Past belongs to the past,” Mephistopheles had said once - surprisingly wise words for a man with his reputation. “Do not let it poison your present or cloud your future.”

“I have stolen nothing from you. He works for Her Majesty, our sister. And he had chosen to accompany me to Justina on his own will.” If threats counted as free will, that’s it. “If you wish so, I will let him speak now. Although I do not believe that the battlefields are the best place for a royal. Neither for him nor for you, brother. Would you consider staying away from the bloody fray for your own safety?”

Loud snort cut Lord Mastema. “As if you have ever cared for me.” Mephistopheles stood up and pushed his chair away. “You dislike me more than I dislike you and that’s clear. Wouldn’t it be better if I die? Then you can put another spineless worm that shivers under your glare in my place.” He turned to look at Uriel and - with a wide grin that showed demonic teeth - spoke. “I hope you do not run from the battles. Few men can fight so fiercely - against their own world, what’s more.” The general walked out, the guards at the door bowing at him.

“I do not believe we can talk of strategy without the general,” Lord Mastema spoke. “Such a pity; when dealing with so important news, one must be as fast as possible. Even as we speak now, the armies of Raphael advance.” The Lord let his smile falter, his face relaxing a bit. “But he had right. Will you reveal the tactics of Raphael? Anything we know will become our trump card. We must push him back at any cost.”

Uriel sighed. “Anything I know, I have told you long ago. I have nothing new to say. I should be free to go now, right? You need your bodyguard no more.”

Without waiting for an answer, Uriel left. Mastema had said it - he worked for the Queen. He was going to follow his goal or die as a soldier. A far more merciful fate than living as a pawn of a cruel god.

* * *

“You dislike that bastard just me, don’t you?” Mephistopheles was standing on the other side of the door. “He is crawling in the shadows like a cowardly snake, biting into you and drinking your blood.”

No answer. If Uriel implied anything, Mastema was going to find out. He looked around to check for spies discreetly…

“My brother’s pawns aren’t watching us. And the boys there -” Mephistopheles looked to the guards “- won’t tell a soul about this. They come from the best part of my army - a part that will never betray me. They know the consequences.”

“Thus, you want me as a pawn in your politics game? I object.” Uriel walked out as fast as he could. No commitments, no promises.

“What game? I don’t want to rule with puppets from the shadows. Once the war’s over and we no longer need the strategies of my brother, we will dispose of him. I’ll take charge. No matter how grand his strategy, we have the numbers and the power.” Mephistopheles smirked. His face burned with intense hate, so much unlike his brother.


	10. Preludes To A Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the battle neared, Mastema offered Uriel a possible way to save one of his brothers. Another trick, just as the snake always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second update! There's not much I can say about it; it is, as the title says, a prelude. We are entering the last battle. I hope you like it! This prompt is Marriage.

Politics. World guarded by heavy barbed wire that made sure to stop everyone but the most persistent. So many things to take care of, so many choices to consider… A snake nest, crawling full of disgusting reptiles that would gulp mercilessly anyone new, drinking their enthusiasm completely. Elegant wine glasses, full of sparkling champagne and the light aftertaste of Cantarella.

Uriel had agreed to Mephistopheles' offer. He had nothing to lose - as on that day when he entered the Inferno army with the intention to start from the bottom. All those siblings could speak only empty promises - the General sent him to spy on Lord Mastema. Again Uriel found himself in that treacherous world, where one mistake would cost him his life. Not now, of course - many months and years later, when it would befit the powers that be.

“Would your brother agree to marriage?” asked Lord Mastema once, in between of reading his piles of messages. “The one, who tries to rebel against the past.”

Raphael? “There is always a method to your madness, milord. But I do not believe he will ever agree with someone so treacherous as you.” Lord Mastema had struck Uriel's curiosity. What could he speak about now?

Lord Mastema opened an envelope sealed with his seal. “Oh, make no mistake. He must detest me as much as I detest him. But I was thinking a marriage of a high noble with my sister would legitimize her rule once we take over Heaven.” 

“Milord, is this not something the Queen would decide herself? You are her adviser.” Mephistopheles did not want new power - he wished only to remove his treacherous brother and let Astaroth rule and himself fight. Such a warmonger would hurt Uriel's ideals even more, but against Lord Mastema he could not refuse that compromise. The Lord would do anything to take power - and he always left a scapegoat to take the fall.

“I believe my sister will agree once I inform her of my reason.” The Lord had started writing another letter, dripping the quill in heavy black ink. “Her agreement can be considered out of question. If reword things sightly… Let me think -” another pretended pause while Lord Mastema wrote “- should I ask your brother be kept alive?”

Uriel clenched fist. Alive - another pawn for Mastema. A prisoner - that would destroy Raphael's life. But if Uriel got him to say yes - if Raphael and Astaroth wed, the war could end. Raphael would have power over twice as large domain; not unlimited, but he could fight for change. He could save the people. And once Mastema thought he had played his role, he would send a murderer after him. A pawn that no longer can play had no reason to stay.

“He would rather die than be taken a prisoner. And for him, life as a consort in a distant world would be a prison.”

“Then I suppose he deserves no protection in a few days. Not that the protection saved your sister.” Lord Mastema turned to look at Uriel. “Anyone could claim his life in the battle.”

Uriel stopped breathing for a moment. “A battle?”

“Do you not know? My brother, the General has decided so. We will attack them on their way to Justina. Maybe he believed I will inform you but alas, that is not my obligation. They shall depart tonight. If you want to go, I advise you to prepare.”


	11. For What We Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A benign exchange of words led Uriel to questioning his reasons. Even Mephistopheles seemed to have a grander reason to fight than him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! I think I missed another update (I've written it and I could swear I've uploaded it; aka lesson why I shouldn't leave posting until just before I got to bed.) Anyway, here's the next thing - this one written for the prompt 'Superstitions'. I love this chapter; while Mastema is one of my favorites, I think I should write more about Mephistopheles, too.

Uriel took off his horse and left the animal rest. Mephistopheles has long since stood up and was ordering around the building of a war camp.

“I don't know why we need such luxuries,” murmured he so low that only Uriel heard. “How long my brother thinks we will fight? Do we need a place to eat, when we could stand around our tents?”

“Eating while standing makes you sick,” Uriel repeated the words his caretakers said whenever he had tried to do so.

Mephistopheles laughed. “Ah, that old tale? Oh, it's a simple lie and nothing more. After all, I tried to test it as soon as my brother told me. Been perfectly fine ever since.”

Ah, another lie for obedient children?

“I still don't know how people believe such foolishness. And -” Mephistopheles looked at everyone in the camp, his sharp grin showing off even sharp teeth, “- do not tell me they fear the result. If we feared everything, would we be here, in another kingdom to fight a bloody conquest?”

No one answered. One soldier, still fresh and uninformed about the General's rage, dared to speak. “They have been taught that by their parents, maybe? And it's something they believe, like you and your hair…”

“Have your parents told you no tales?” Mephistopheles barked as if he were a wild wolf. “I can name you at least three heroes, whose power comes from their hair. And they all ended as legends!” He traced fingers through his long red hair. “What's your name, soldier?”

The man whispered something that even Uriel could not hear. Somehow, the General did. “At least you spoke up, unlike that bunch. Kadiran, huh? I'll try to remember that name.”

“Sir, that sounds like a simple superstition. You blindly believe in something…”

“And?” Mephistopheles turned to Uriel - only he could move so fast in full armor. “Once again, we are at war. Who does not fight with belief? Some believe in justice, some in power, some in luck. I believe in myself. What are you fighting for?”

Ah, the important question. Uriel would have traded his share from the Heaven kingdom to anyone that gave him an answer. Could he say he still fought for justice? His armored shone with reflected sunlight. Even after so much time, few red droplets had stuck to it - the curse of the first sinner. Fighting for the people? As if those endless wars that forced them to die away from home would ever help them! Yet he had seen it start; he had to fight to the end!

“I fight because it is my duty,” answered Uriel. Such a fake answer would never satisfy Lord Mastema.

His brother, however, smiled. “Duty. Had my brother taught you nothing? Duty to whom - that would answer my question.” Lord Mephistopheles walked away. He didn't pry for anything else. “I advise you to fight for something. Hell, you can fight because you believe it's your fate to win if you want! You can fight because you want to kill people! But those that walk on without direction in war often find themselves unable to walk anymore.”


	12. Feast For The Plague

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war revealed the ugliest sides of everybody. Including a general, who'd stomp over everybody to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! Since I said I've finished the thing yesterday, today you are getting a double update! Or maybe a super early bonus update for tomorrow, depending on where you live. I'm a bit conflicted about this chapter; on one side, I don't think Mephi would act exactly like that, but on the other, being a general could change his thinking a bit and it's not that big of a difference... This prompt's 'Illness'.

Lord Mastema's servant left as soon as he gave his report. Without a single word more than needed, he disappeared in the forest, swallowed by the wild green.

“Can we trust him?” asked Uriel. “Could he be trying to lower our guard so that my brother's army will plow through us?”

“Do you think anyone on your family would strike an alliance with Mastema? No matter how much he hates us, he wouldn't kill us. Not when he can't fight alone when his life depends on it.” Mephistopheles grinned, his red eyes sparkling like fresh blood. “As long as the war keeps on, he depends on us. He wants the war to end - even more than us.”

“He has guaranteed death for us, huh? Once we give him Justina, he will throw us to the dogs?” Uriel had not suspected anything less of him.

“That's just like our plan for him. We will be faster. While he is busy installing himself as a ruler and quashing rebellions… That's why we'll kill as few as possible. The more the people, the greater the rebellions. And once we kill Mastema, we will destroy that plague we started from the source.” Mephistopheles clenched fist shut. He said nothing else.

“Is this your whole plan? If so, it is doomed to fail. Mastema has already foreseen this conversation. We need to find a way to outtrick him. Otherwise we'd only walk in his traps.” Uriel crossed hands. Had his time with Lord Mastema destroyed his patience for stupidity so much?

“And if I have a weapon that cannot fail? Something so horrific that even Mastema will beg us to not use it?”

No smile had frightened Uriel so much. Lord Mastema smirked gallantly, slowly freezing the blood in the people's bodies. Mephistopheles' grin set his body ablaze. 

“I said plague, did I not? Have you heard of those horrible illnesses that come from distant lands? My brother, Beelzebub - the navy admiral - has found one so horrible that it could kill a whole kingdom. He has also found doctors that will cure it for us. Even Mastema would not know about it. If push comes to a shove, we will unleash a plague. How will Mastema fight that?”

Uriel stepped back. “You… This must be one of your strange jokes.” What monster would throw away so many lives to kill one?

“He will do far more horrific things to murder us. I prefer open war, but how will we drive Mastema to that?” Mephistopheles spoke lightly. Life mattered to him less than to Lord Mastema. “When you are fighting strong opponents, you need to be ready of anything. The harder the battle, the further you need to go.”

“This will not be a fight. It would be but a slaughter.” Uriel had not imagined it. Were all rulers of Pandemonium such monsters? “You will kill so many people to win nothing. Would you rule over an empty kingdom?”

“Over a kingdom without scheming tyrants to steal power.”

Uriel had never before wished for a battle to begin. Maybe Mephistopheles would fall in the upcoming fight. Lord Mastema at least knew he could not rule in an empty domain. 


	13. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter opened. Raphael's army would appear at any moment. What would Uriel do once he met his brother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I can't believe this took me so long to write... This chapter was the death of me. It got delayed because of a few things, including my thoughts getting stuck in verse (yeah) and me trying to write the character of Mephistopheles... I hope you enjoy this finished product! The prompt is 'Come Together'.
> 
> WARNING FOR SOME VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER!

Heaven's army had just entered the passage - the easiest way to cross the mountains that split the kingdom in half. Raphael! Uriel scouted for his brother, looking for the familiar crest on every shield. How could he find him in that sea of wood, metal and colors? The first knight walked out between the rocks of the mountain. No blue roses on his crest.

The knight stopped. Far too late. His horse tripped and fell down in the pit Mephistopheles' army had been digging since they arrived. Michael could have sent his royal guard to stop him, but that would mean leaving Justina defenseless. He'd never leave his people at the mercy of either Inferno Lord.

The iron torrent behind him could not stay held back. The first wave of knights all fought to stop, each one falling in the pit to hell. Like a heavy war drum, metal clashed against metal with horrific force. The cacophony startled the horses, each one galloping in furious fear. Running away - no, stomping away. Massacre before the fight had even begun. Hooves trampled over every fallen knight, with such force that the armor bent.

Even through the helmet, Uriel could see Mephistopheles smiling. “Invitation to Death,” he spoke under his breath. “Now for the rest…” His hand, covered in pitch-black armor, rose and singed down. From the cliffs, thousands of arrows fell - a sharp, sudden death. The air screeched with the screams of people and the swift slashes of the arrows.

“Retreat!” ordered the leader. Raphael’s voice! Uriel pushed the visor of his helmet up, trying to look at the clustered swarms. Blue rose, blue rose…

“You are looking for him, aren't you? Pray we don't find him in the piles of corpses they leave.” The dark armored glistened like horrible crystal. Mephistopheles turned to his army. “Once they all leave, we'll use the bridges we made to cross the pit! Then we are attacking them in the back!”

The soldiers followed the order. Heavy wooden constructs stood up on the side of the pit, held by numerous warriors. They slowly lowered the bridges until it reached the other side. With a quiet echo, it fell on the soil.

“Advance!” Mephistopheles ordered. His shout echoed through the army, every solider repeating it. Metal rang against metal. Plates, swords and pikes, chain mail and armor, cried for blood. The earth shook under the horse hooves as the army charged forward. The general rode first, his horse tearing through the air and digging deep in the ground, before jumping up again. Uriel tried his best to stay by his side.

The army trampled over the filed, decked with corpses. Each step, each ring of metal, each sound of bone-shattering under the knights, broke the dead silence. Some of the dead tried to scream; alive! Could they still live, agonizing slowly? War, this was war! The bloody witch needed her sacrifices every time. 

“Faster!” ordered the General. The soldiers were enemies; why would he care about them? “We cannot let them escape! We will this fight!”

In no time, they had reached the remainder of Heaven’s army. In the middle of the soldiers, like some patron god, stood one man. Pale blue vines - the finest ultramarine - warped around the armor, as white as ivory. His helmet looked like a blossomed rose, dark like the nighttime sky.

The family had come back together - in the most horrible possible way.


	14. Cracks Begin To Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uriel returned to the bleak, black fortress. Lord Mastema was going to attack from the shadows any moment. At least, Uriel hoped, he had no new weapons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you go on, a disclaimer - I skipped on the fight. I tried my best, but it was so... so-so that I ended up cutting it completely. Which led to the side result that I cut out the part with Raphael... Also, this fic's title comes from the song "Nobody's Side" from the musical "Chess". The prompt today is Epiphany.

Not a battle; a massacre. How could Raphael’s soldiers - demoralized, weakened, half-dead - win against the force of Inferno? Even through the pitch-black helmet, Mephistopheles’ shark sharp teeth glistened. The earth had feasted on blood - a horrible offering for a god of war.

“Not a bad win.” Mephistopheles walked through the dark labyrinth of Fort Purgatory, his armor screeching with the voice of a ghoul. He took off the steel helmet. Red hair, like a waterfall, fell to his feet. “How many victims?”

Uriel still couldn't realize when he had become Mephistopheles' second in command. At some point, the General had started delegating more and more tasks to him. “Around a third of my bro... of Raphael's army has died. Less than twenty soldiers from our side.” Barely a whisper, Uriel's voice sank in the gray granite.

Mastema had ordered the castle rebuild, uprooting any memory of Gabriel within the walls. Whatever decorations had remained, Mastema destroyed them. Golden dust still lingered in the air, the only piece of a broken memory.

“Eh, what did you say?” Mephistopheles had not heard Uriel. “No matter, as long as you are sure. My brother -” Uriel clenched fist tightly, the armor crying from the pressure “- will also ask. With him, I don't think you can use those tricks.”

Uriel could use a few more days before meeting the snake. He wished he could avoid him forever, but the Lord would interrogate him as soon as he heard about his return.

“And don't forget,” only the General's voice anchored Uriel in the present, “our plans are secret.”

Another secret. Another betrayal. Another plan. Another chain around Uriel's neck.

* * *

“Congratulations for your win against the armies of Heaven.”

Lord Mastema had summoned Uriel to his chambers once again. He sat on a heavy golden chair, dressed in fine golden clothes. Any air of familiarity, the room could have, had disappeared. His hand, with nails, polished deadly black, supported his head. Eyes, as green as a stormy sea, looked straight at Uriel. “How many,” he asked with an over-sweetened voice, “have fallen in the fight?”

“Not a great amount, milord,” Uriel spoke as clear as he could. Otherwise the Lord would force him to repeat and spend even more time in his dark prison-like chambers. Not that he would not find another reason to torment him. “Only few deaths from our side. More than a third of Raphael's army.”

The Lord frowned. “Memory might play me tricks, but have I not insisted that no one should survive? Especially your brother?” He looked impossibly big, almost like a a tower with golden walls. “Why have you left so much run away?”

“With all due respect, Lord Mastema, your brother has led the attack. I advise you to ask him...”

“But,” the cold voice froze all the power left in Uriel, “I send you to make sure he respects my will. If you believe there is an ounce of trust between us, you must be a greater fool than I thought.”

“Milord,” Uriel shuffled from one leg to the other (when would the questions end?) “what could I have done?”

“You could have not let your brother escape,” Lord Mastema turned away from him. “He is one of the most dangerous enemies. Without him, would we fear Heaven so much? I start to doubt your loyalty.” The Lord looked at his beautiful collections of weapons, decorating the walls. Each one drowned in blood.

“I will do anything you say, Milord.” As long as promises let him leave.

“You say so time after time, yet you never follow on it. You killed your sister, but you could not kill your brother. So much for a traitor, it seems.” Lord Mastema stood from his chair. “Leave. And if you want to keep whatever powers you have been given, I advise you to give up on my brother's coup.”

He knew. Of course. 


	15. And so, It Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lord of the Snakes offered peace. As always, it came with strings attached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! This is the last entry so far, the prompt being Charm. What could I write but the charming Mastema, trying to destroy someone else with words? Also, so sorry this took so much time. What am I going to do next - I don't know yet. Maybe I'm going to focus on my NaNo project for the rest of April and write for challenges at dreamwidth...

‘Your Highness, Michael,’

Mastema dipped his quill in the ash-black ink. His thoughts - let free for a moment - tangled in a disordered sense.

‘Your brother's army has fallen. I am just as sure as you that the end of our little struggle is near.’

How much time would it take Raphael to send a message? Mephisto could not guard all the mountain passages, but he had left soldiers on the ones close to Justina. Raphael would need at least a few weeks to send a message through the remaining ones. Another chance to pressure the prince, then.

‘I regret to inform you that your brother has been slain.’

Uncertainty - a bet where the pluses outweighed the risks. Mastema smiled. He could pressure Micheal even more.

‘I regret to inform you that your brother had been slain by Uriel. Is it not time to end this horrific war, where brother must kill brother?’

How could the good, all-loving Michael say no? How could Mastema not pile even more guilt onto him?

‘You have tried to end this bloodbath. We accepted your offer for peace talks and we will accept it again, if you do not wish your whole kingdom destroyed. You could have agreed to our terms. I shall give you another chance. Refusal means your destruction. I do not believe I could hold my brother back.’

Mastema would not even try to hold Mephisto back, but Micheal did not need to know that. Fear made people obedient. Now Mastema had to play the part of the charming hero.

‘However, I promise to fight as much as I could. If you agree to meet me, I will stop the advancing army by any means possible. I shall ask for compensation, of course, but only as much as acceptable. Even here we have heard of the heavy losses you have suffered through.’

Just enough to not ruin them completely, but so much that they would depend completely on Inferno's mercy. Astaroth would have to agree to those terms, but she did as Mastema asked. He was her best, most trusted politician.

‘I find it hard to believe you would not agree. This is in the best interests of both countries. The needless death stops, the senseless bloodshed ends. No more families will have to be broken, no one will die in agony from a sword in their back. No one will have to fear the crimson shadow of the war.’

He could not say "No" to those terms, right? And even if he did, Mastema had another letter planned - that one for the Royal Court. At least one of them would wish the war to end. One spark to ignite a second war.

‘Mastema, First Lord of Inferno’

No, not enough. After a short thought, Mastema added to his signature, ‘and Governor of Purgatory’

The seal of House Lucifer hit the soft wax. All left was to deliver the message. Oh, how fun it'd be to send Uriel - but he could disprove the contents with ease. No, the letter had to be given to someone else.

Mephisto would hate it - he always hated when wars ended. That monster lived for pain and fighting, always being one step before his enemies and beating them every time. The next danger to Mastema's power.

After the peace treaty, he would have to kill him, too.


End file.
